


simplicity is the glory of expression

by aristos_philtatos



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Random & Short, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 15:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20244757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristos_philtatos/pseuds/aristos_philtatos
Summary: He got that glint in his eye, that warmth in his voice when he was about to tell us something new, something revolutionary that would forever change our lives.“People started realizing that feelings cannot be contained into iambic pentameter, that they have to be expressed freely: poetry, as life, has to be unconstrained to be true”.





	simplicity is the glory of expression

**Author's Note:**

> really short and random, I don't even know what to say.  
hope you'll enjoy it, let me know.

“I’m sure in previous years you’ve been told lots about the rules of Poetry” Mr Keating's voice spoke in his usual bubbly manner one December morning. "The rhythms, the meters, the patterns, forms, sonnets, odes: all that”.

We all nodded, vaguely remembering the droning voices of the teachers talking all about blank verses and stanzas.

“What you don’t know, and I hope you’re getting an idea of this year, is that at some point, all those rules, all those fixed standards didn’t work anymore”.

He got that glint in his eye, that warmth in his voice when he was about to tell us something new, something revolutionary that would forever change our lives.    
“People started realizing that feelings cannot be contained into iambic pentameter, that they have to be expressed freely: poetry, as life, has to be unconstrained to be true”.

From the corner of his eye, Neil could see Todd leaning forward, slightly gaping: his eyes sparkled in excitement, as they often did in English class, and his cheeks looked rosy. It was probably the cold. Behind him, snow was falling again outside the window.

“ So what did you think about  Keating’s class today?”

Todd turned to frown at him, but with a slight smile. “What kind of question is that? It was brilliant, like always”.

He looked back at his book, but the colour was back on his cheeks. He seemed cosy, lying on his bed with that blue sweater and perplexed expression on.   
Neil wondered if he wanted a blanket.

“ Yes, but do you agree with him?” 

An eyebrow was raised in his direction.

“Do you think feelings must be expressed freely?”

Todd raised his head abruptly at that, a weird look on his face: his blush dark and his eyes wide, like a startled creature. “What do you mean?”

He got up from his bed, swallowing his sudden nerves, and approached Todd, who straightened up and watched him, his face tense and unreadable.

“I mean, don’t you think-” he stopped, uncertain: in the tiny room, he was already in front of Todd, their legs touching, and he didn’t know how to express those feelings who were so true they might just kill him.

“-don’t you think that we should always be honest when we-” he faltered again, as Todd got up, and his mouth was too dry and the words that always seemed so close to bursting out suddenly deserted him.

“When we-” in the end, Todd had mercy of his struggling heart and reached out, cutting him off with soft lips and a kiss that tasted of snow and poetry and Todd.

So Keating was right, as he always was: feelings cannot be contained in rules and rhymes but had to be expressed freely.   
And maybe they didn’t always need words either, maybe the true meaning of this feeling could be found in the curve of Todd Anderson’s mouth.


End file.
